


Three's Company

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-25
Updated: 2005-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Stuck together the night before the final battle, they cope the best they can.





	Three's Company

"Dumbledore," said Harry, some time around his sixth firewhiskey, "Dumbledore is a..." He frowned, slumped on the table, head on one hand, the other waving his glass vaguely. "Dumbledore, right, Dumbledore's a, a, a--"

"Dumbledore is an old English word for bumblebee," said Snape with the careful enunciation of the truly drunk.

"Buzz buzz," said Draco and giggled into his beer.

"Bastard," Harry emptied his glass. "Tha's what he is. He's a big, bloody, bossy, bearded, bastard."

"I'll drink to that," said Snape, and did.

"With his stupid prophecies and his stupid bird and his stupid Order and his stupid glasses and his stupid twinkle and his stupid bloody hat and--"

"I," Draco annouced, cutting the grumble off mid-flow, "am so fucking pissed."

"Lightweight," sneered Harry. He tried to drink again from his empty glass, to no avail. "Bugger. My glass is empty. Barkeep!"

"They threw us out of the bar hours ago, Potter," Snape reminded him. "You may recall your impromptu and, may I say, rather rousing oratory on the subject of how much you hate 'the great tosser Voldie' and what you were going to do to him, complete with impressively destructive use of visual aids."

"Personally I found the smashing of the third chair was a trifle overkill," said Draco, "but I did like the bit where you danced a jig on that guy's crisps."

"I need more alcohol," said Harry. He looked around the room, trying to spot a handy bottle or six. "...where the bloody hell are we, anyway?"

"The depths of hell." Snape sank further down into the large red leather armchair. "Trapped in the pit."

"The three thingies," said Draco, rolling over on the couch and waving his hands vaguely. "'bove the wossname."

"My life sucks," said Harry, banging his head on the table and covering his head with his arms.

"Drink and be merry," said Snape in a gloomy tone. "For tomorrow we die." He had another drink.

"I can't drink. My glass is empty."

"We're going to DIE?" yelled Draco. "FUCK! I knew I shouldn't have changed sides."

"There's another bottle in cupboard," said Snape.

"I'm far too pretty to die," moaned Draco. "And young. And nubile."

"What? That cupboard?" asked Harry, eyeing it dubiously without raising his head. "All the way over there? Right by your feet?" He looked at Snape who grinned nastily and made no attempt to move. "...bugger."

"And neither of you are listening to a word I say, are you?" Draco sighed.

"Typical bloody life." Harry untangled himself and pushed himself up off the table onto unsteady feet. "Live in the cupboard, Potter. Stay with the bloody Muggles, Potter. I'm buggering off to London, why don't you fight Voldielord, Potter? What's that, Potter? You're only eleven? Tough."

"Do stop whining, Potter," said Snape. "I can barely hear myself drink." He took a pointed sip from his still half-full glass while Harry glared in Snape's general direction.

"I can't believe I'm going to die a virgin," whined Draco. Snape choked on his firewhiskey. Harry gave Draco a bemused look. "What? I was saving myself!"

"For what?" asked Harry. "A pureblood princess? You'd be lucky. She'd have to be blind and deaf. And desperate."

"I hate you and I want you to die," said Draco.

"Join the queue," snapped Harry.

"And I have precedence," added Snape. "So there."

"Damn it!" cried Draco. "No vengeance, no servants--"

"No alcohol," put in Harry.

"Cupboard," said Snape, tapping it with his foot. Harry glared again.

"--no carnal pleasures of the flesh." Draco threw his hands up in despair. "What is the world coming to?"

"War," said Snape. "Death. Destruction. Detention. Very small rocks."

"How would you like to spend your evening, Harry?" Harry growled. "With Ron and Hermione? No? You want to spend last night before the big battle wherein you will in all probability die horribly with two people you can't stand? No problem!"

Snape snorted. "Why don't you spy for us, there's a good chap, Severus. Why don't you teach Potions while I hire a succession of morons, incompetents, monsters and Death Eaters to teach Defence, thanks ever so, Severus. Say, Severus, I hear the Dark Lord is going to try and kill Potter, why don't you stay with him for his protection, because putting all the targets in one room is clearly a clever plan."

"For I am Dumbledore," grumbled Harry. "Bastard to the stars."

"Bastard," agreed Snape.

"Could we please stop talking about creepy old guys and start talking about how I need to get the sex?" Draco yelled.

There was a long pause.

"No," said Snape and Harry at the same time.

Draco pouted, crossing his arms in a flouncey, dramatic manner which the other two completely missed as Snape had sunk so far into his chair the only thing that could be seen were his knees sticking up, and Harry had tried to take a step towards the alcohol filled cupboard and had ended up sprawling across the floor instead.

"Some bloody saviour of the Wizarding world you are," said Draco. "Won't even save a poor handsome lad of excellent breeding and noted wealth from a horrific virginal death."

"Fuck," said Harry from the floor.

"That's what I'm getting at," explained Draco.

"Off," added Harry.

"I am so defecting back come morning."

"Buzz buzz!" said Snape suddenly. "Hah! That's funny! Twenty points to Slytherin!"

Draco preened.

"So. Much. Hate." Harry muttered, and promptly passed out.

"Lightweight," sneered Snape.

Draco looked at the unconscious Harry. He looked at Snape. He looked back at Harry, who was drooling in his sleep. He looked back at Snape. He sat up and attempted to leer. "Hey, Professor, want to--"

"I know sixteen different ways to kill you without leaving this chair," said Snape, clutching his drink protectively.

Sighing, Draco slumped back on the couch. "I bet Father never had this problem."

Saw-noise snores rose from the armchair. Draco pulled a fresh bottle out from behind a cushion.

"Bloody Dumbledore."


End file.
